


Happy Hour

by epersonae



Series: The Director [10]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, introverts gonna introvert, ipre references but no specific spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 20:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11321451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae/pseuds/epersonae
Summary: The Director would much rather be writing quietly, but Merle has taken it upon himself to invite her to the evening's shindig.





	Happy Hour

**Author's Note:**

> A little something from a prompt on Tumblr ("please don't make me socialize"). Set sometime after Crystal Kingdom; haven't decided if this is before or after the lunar interlude spa date.

Some habits die hard, and this is one of them: sitting down with a pair of notebooks and a pair of pencils, recording all the details of the day just past. Lucretia has been doing something much like this for more than 100 years, and no less so at the Bureau of Balance than in the century on the Starblaster. Although here, no one knows about her two-books-at-once habit, and she aims to keep it that way.

Which means that she only has a second to react when the door bangs open. She drops one pencil, slips one book under the other, and looks up to see Merle in the doorway. He has a bottle of wine tucked under his flesh arm, and he comes right up to the desk.

“You’re coming with me, lady,” he said. His feet are planted wide, and she has a hunch he won’t take no for an answer. “The boys are getting Johann to play his most danceable tunes, and they’re rounding up everyone for drinks and music.”

She tries to take the professional way out; that works for her far more often than even she thinks it should.

“Merle, don’t you think they should be able to relax and let their hair down without their boss looking over their shoulder?”

“I think you need to let your hair down.” He gives a quizzical look at her close-cropped curls. “I mean, metaphorically, anyways. You know they won’t care.”

It’s going to be like that, then. She pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I do have far too much work to do, Merle, although of course I do appreciate the invitation.” And she re-opens the book to start writing again, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave her alone. Then again, when has Merle Highchurch ever taken a hint?

He steps even closer to the desk, looking over the neat stacks of paperwork.

“I can not believe that there is a single thing that can’t wait until morning. Look how orderly this is!” He waves the bottle of wine over the desk, and since he’s short enough that the bottle is right in line with the edge of the desk, she instinctively puts her hands over things, just in case. “You are a lady that has every last thing accounted for, I can see that. And that preparation, that’s going to give you just enough slack to skedaddle the hell out of here just a few minutes early, just this once. Am I right?”

He sets the bottle down on the desk and comes around to stand beside her, which means she immediately shuts the journal. Again. Even when she’s sitting, he’s still a bit shorter than she is, but he’s certainly closer to eye level, and his dark eyes with the web of wrinkles in the corners: they’ve always seen more than anyone thinks they do. Even without Zone of Truth (probably? Maybe? Would he do that to her?) she feels compelled to be honest.

“Please, don’t make me socialize,” she says, “Merle, I’m just not up to it right now.” 

“Socialize?!” He laughs. “We’re not going to a book club or a tea party!” He picks up the bottle of wine again. “We’re gonna drink a bunch of booze and listen to that sad sack Johann play the good shit that the rest of the world can’t remember and we’re gonna watch Magnus try to dance, and Killian and Carey actually dance. And maybe I’ll take you for a little spin out on the grass if the tunes are right and we’ve had enough wine. That work for ya?”

He grabs her shoulder with his soulwood hand, which is a gentler touch than she would’ve expected, and pushes her chair back away from her desk. And of course it’s no use, so she might as well get up and follow him out the door and carefully lock her office, with one last longing glance at her notebooks.

And of course she does have a good time; Johann is the best musician in the world, after all, or at least he was before she took him to the moon, and Merle has a free hand with the wine, and nobody really talks to her anyway, so she can just sit back and watch them: this crew that she’s gathered together, and how they’ve become so much more than she had ever hoped for.


End file.
